


Wait

by Barbedbeat



Category: Pillars of Eternity
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-15
Updated: 2018-10-15
Packaged: 2019-08-02 13:08:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16305782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Barbedbeat/pseuds/Barbedbeat
Summary: Commission I wrote for my dear friend Chimera!





	Wait

The bustle of the Celestial Sapling slowly turned into a roar of songs as the evening faded away, and the night cast its dark embrace over Twin Elms.   
Qurin sat in her room, a finger absentmindedly grazing the contours of a scar as she flipped through her journal.   
She’d filled pages upon pages with her round handwriting, storing all the information she’d gathered upon the Legacy and pouring them on paper, bit by bit, over the course of fourteen months.   
When she reached her last entry, dated 12 Fonestu 2824, she allowed a smile to blossom on her lips.   
She was reaching a closure, and she’d find it thanks to those people whose names glimmered, black on white, at the light of her candle.   
  
_ -Ember (real name unknown), fire godlike, 65, Watcher and current Lady of Caed Nua. _ __  
_ -Tixoc Tlacatl, elf, 57, mercenary. _ __  
_ -Aloth Corfiser, elf, 62, wizard. _ __  
__ -Edér Teylecg, human, 32, veteran.   
  
She’d been following their trails ever since the Animancy Hearings, sure she could find a valuable source of data in that fellow Child of Magran who was so indissolubly tied to the Leaden Key and its mysterious leader.   
And sure enough, that very morning her sources claimed they’d been seen roaming Eir Glanfath, forcing her to pack up her stuff and traipse all the way from Dyrford to the Elms, in what had proven to be all but an easy journey.

  
She’d been meaning to intercept them at sundown.   
By the time she’d reached the city gates, though, they’d already left the area, leaving her with nothing but an empty belly and a sour face.   
She could have rushed after them, but her muscles ached sorrily, and she’d decided to head to the nearest inn for an early dinner and a good night’s sleep instead.   
Tomorrow, she decided, she’d wake up at first lights, and spend the entire day on the lookout. With the aid of a rested body and a dose of determination, she’d surely find them then.   
Comforted by the perspective, she stretched her arms and let herself fall on her bed.   
She had just tasted the warm taste of sleep when a scream erupted from downstairs.   
“Help! Someone--”   
The plea was interrupted by a surge of questions from patrons and passers by alike only for it to reprise, louder than before.   
“A HEALER! We need-- we need a healer!!”

  
Qurin had stormed down the stairs with reckless speed, nearly crashing into a tipsy old lady in the process.   
She’d elbowed her way through the crowd of busybodies that clogged the hall, announcing a clear “I’m here!  _ Excuse me, I need to _ \-- I’m here! Healer Qurin, at--  _ excuse me _ \-- at your service!”   
When she reached the source of the call, she couldn’t hide her surprise.    
It was them.   
She, however, paid no attention to the burly man at the back of the group, nor to the terrified-looking mage who seemed bent on crushing his knuckles out of sheer terror, instead focusing on the unmoving figure that rested in the mercenary’s arms.   
“What happened here?”   
Tixoc locked eyes with her, face ashen.   
“It’s-- it’s my sister. She collapsed on the bridge to Teir Evron, she… she was acting out a vision, and suddenly-- Gods, she doesn’t wake up, and no matter what we do, we can’t wake her up either. Healer, please...”   
He leaned towards her, as if willing to hand her the still body he was carrying.   
“... do something.”   
  
  
“There. Put her here.”   
Qurin held open the door to her room with one hand, and motioned Tixoc towards the bed with the other.   
When everybody had slipped in, she skidded towards Ember and began checking her vitals with accustomed precision.   
“So, she is a Watcher, hm?”   
Tixoc’s jaw hang open.    
“Yes, but how...”   
“How do I know?”, she replied, prying one of her eyelids open and snapping her claws in front of her eyebulb, obtaining no reaction.   
“Let’s just say her fame precedes her.”    
She lifted Ember’s arm and watched as it fell back down, as limp as a wet rag.   
“Besides,” the orlan continued, dragging a finger across her pressure points, gauging the severity of her essence’s imbalance by the subtle spasm in her tendons, “she’s Awakened. And she’s lost in a trance. Whatever her soul is reliving...” She clicked her tongue.   
“... mustn’t be pleasant.”   
She reached for her bag, and produced a small satchel full of powdered herbs.   
“She’s too far gone for me to do anything. She’ll wake up eventually, but for that to happen her mind needs to come to terms with its turmoil. And that’s something no one can help her with.”   
She took a glass of water and dissolved a pinch of powder in it.   
“Then… what do we do?” Tixoc swallowed, and when their gazes met, his eyes were full of questions.   
“We wait. In the meantime--  _ oi, you: drink this. _ ” She pushed the glass into Aloth’s hands, startling a gasp out of him. “It’ll calm your nerves a tad. Gods know you need it. In the meantime,” she resumed, oblivious to the elf’s tiny  _ thank you _ , “I’d like to ask you some questions.”    
She turned to Tixoc, and pointed at the door behind him.   
“In private, if that’s not a problem.”   
  
  


They left Aloth and Edér by the Watcher’s bedside and slowly made their way towards the bar.   
They plopped on one of the benches, and took a long, hearty sip from their tankards.    
Tixoc sighed, letting alcohol wash away a fraction of his worry, and gifted her with his undivided attention.    
“So,” he started, “what do you wish to know?”

  
  
They sat there until the background chatter had died, until the last patron had slowly stumbled out in the night, until Qurin had exhausted her stream of inquiries and her quill had etched all of Tixoc’s replies on paper.   
“So, you said the responsible is a man named… Thaos, uh? How do you even spell that?”   
“Yes. He’s a priest of sorts, he is. Thaos is the head of the Leaden Key, and he… he likes to use big machines to tear souls out of people.”    
He took another swig, draining the contents of his mug.   
“He’s the one responsible for this whole mess. The Hollowborn crisis.”    
He shrugged.    
“But we’re here to take him down, you know? As soon as we find him, that is.”   
“That’s the spirit.”    
She placed her notebook on the table and stifled a yawn.   
“Well, I think that’s everything I needed to know. Thanks for your help, Tixoc.”   
The elf nodded. “Least I could do.”   
He then poured himself some more moonshine and gulped it down in a fluid motion.   
“You now, I… I really hope my sister makes it.”   
Qurin placed a comforting palm on his shoulders. They were awfully tense.   
“She’ll push through,” she stated. “You, on the other hand...”   
“What about me?”   
“How do you feel, Tixoc?” 

She watched as he chewed on his tongue, returning her stare.   
“I… I’m good, I guess.”   
She scoffed.    
“Liar.”   
Tixoc shook his head.   
“Shite, I nearly forgot you were a medic. No sense in covering things up, aye?”    
He squeezed his eyes shut, exhaling a tired breath.   
“Truth is, I don’t know anymore. I feel… empty, in a way. Empty and worried and angry.”   
He slammed his glass on the table.   
“Very angry.”   
The orlan nodded.   
“That’s quite evident. Though, I think I can help with that.”   
Tixoc turned to her, a skeptical look on his face.   
“You can?”   
She bared her teeth in a grin.    
“That I do. Come with me: we’re taking a free room.”

  
  
  


  
Qurin felt Tixoc’s body quiver with a sigh as tension bled out of his muscles, turning into a spell of deep relaxation.   
She reached for her ointment bottle and squeezed a generous dose on the elf’s back, resuming her massage.    
“Magran’s tits, this is great.”   
Tixoc groaned with pleasure as her hands traced the contours of his spine, thumbs smoothening the stiffness in his essence.   
It had been months since she’d last put her palms to good use, but she hadn’t lost her touch, it seemed.   
“Glad you like it,” she clucked, dragging her fingers across the large scar between his shoulder blades.   
“Now, turn around. I need to work on that chest of yours.”   
She waited for him to comply and straddled his abdomen.    
Qurin looked as he knit his fingers behind his head, a contented smile brightening his features.   
She slid her hands across the net of scar on his neck and all the way down to his pectorals. To be perfectly honest, she was quite enjoying the view.    
And, judging from Tixoc’s eloquent stares, he wasn’t that indifferent to his, either.   
When she felt a familiar something poking her tailbone, she knew she was right.

His apologetic simper met her impish smirk.   
Then, in unison, they leaned towards each other, and locked their mouths in a kiss.   
  


 

The next morning, Qurin rose early.    
Tixoc though, had been faster.   
“Good morning!”, he chimed from across the room, wiggling a cup mid-air.   
“I made you some tea.”   
She slipped out of her bed and strutted towards him, planting a sound kiss on his bicep.   
“Thanks, Tix,” she said, wrapping her fingers around the handle and taking a careful sip.   
“So”, she continued, “how is Mr. Grumpy doing today?”   
He chuckled softly, brushing his knuckles against her red whiskers.    
“Why, I’ve never felt better! And all thanks to you.”    
He lowered his head, and his lips pressed against hers one more time.   
“Also, my sister’s finally back.” Qurin looked up, and saw him beam.   
“I’ve been waiting for you to wake up so I could introduce you. Come: she’s waiting for you in her room. Or better…” He winked briefly, “... _ your _ room.”   
  


 

When they pushed the door to her quarters, Qurin could hear nothing but Edér’s cheerful chatter.   
“... and so I was like, ‘hey, wait a minute! That’s-- that’s no chicken: that’s Elcwynn’s runt piglet covered in feathers!’” He erupted in a heartfelt laugh, smoke slithering out of his nostrils in thick streams.    
“Ooh, boy, those were the days.”    
He placed his pipe back in his mouth and turned his head towards them.   
“Tixoc! Qurin! Hey, Em, look who we got here!”   
He patted the godlike on the back with more force than necessary, causing her spectacles to fall off her nose.   
“Ah, Healer Qurin!” Ember pushed her glasses back into place and stumbled towards her, a hand extended in greeting.    
Qurin examined her features, looking for any sign of imbalance.    
There were dark circles under her eyes, and it was clear she hadn’t had a single night’s sleep in far too long   
Other than that, though, she seemed alert and coherent… and, most importantly,  _ alive _ .   
“A pleasure, Watcher Itztli. Glad to see you back on the saddle.”   
Ember’s eyebrows shot upwards at the mention of her name.   
“ _ Oh, _ ” she said, reverting to her mother tongue. “ _ Another fellow Ixamitl, I take it? _ ”   
Qurin nodded.   
“ _ That’s right. _ ”   
_ “And another Child of Magran to boot! What are the chances?” _   
Their fingers clasped in a complicit handshake just as Tixoc erupted in a wild cackle.   
_ “You from Ixamitl? For real?! I hadn’t quite realised!” _ __  
“Tixoc, you wouldn’t recognize an antelope if it came charging at you. Please, forgive my brother: he can be a bit… distracted at times.”   
“That I noticed.”   
The orlan winked, giving her partner an affectionate bump on the thigh.   
“So, Qurin,” the Watcher continued, “I beg you to accept my payment, as well as an invitation to breakfast. Apparently, I’ve been out for the best part of yesterday, and I’m positively starving.”   
  
  
Qurin had refused her coin, but had enthusiastically accepted to join them for a morning meal.   
They’d sat together in the hall, chatting, eating, and exchanging tales of the Dyrwood and fond memories of home.   
When the sun began to shine high in the sky, they’d parted ways.   
Qurin waved them goodbye from the Sapling’s door, blowing Tixoc one last, sneaky kiss.   
“Good luck with your mission, Watcher! May Wael’s eyes guard you.”   
She watched as they disappeared over the horizon, and let out a satisfied sigh.

A prayer moved her lips as she cast a silent blessing upon them, granting them the strength to finally face Thaos.   
The Legacy would be over soon. And when that were to happen, she’d be the first to know.   
In the meantime, she thought, stepping back inside and grabbing a mug of ale, all she had to do was wait.   



End file.
